


Night and Day

by Bunnywest



Series: Hunter 'verse [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Naked Cuddling, POV Chris Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:01:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Chris Argent looks at the sleeping man in his arms, and wonders what his family would think if they were here to see him with a werewolf in his bed.He discovers that he doesn't really care.





	Night and Day

 

 

Chris wonders if Peter knows how soft he looks when he sleeps, how young.

There’s no reason he would of course, who has there been to tell him?

There’s a certain set to his jaw when he’s awake, a tilt to the head, that screams “I don't trust you”.  He’s never completely off guard, and really, that’s understandable, given what he’s been through.

When he sleeps though, that’s gone, and Peter looks like the boy Chris remembers from high school, beautiful and confident and untroubled.

He stares unashamedly at the face before him, taking the time to appreciate the features.

The strong, straight nose, the slightly plumped lips, the gorgeous jawline, the dusting of dark stubble. Chris drinks in the sight of the sleeping man, and finds himself smiling.

Three months, that’s how longs it’s taken for them to get here.

Three wonderful, frustrating months of teasing and innuendo and verbal foreplay.

Worth the wait.

He wonders what his family would say about him having a werewolf in his bed, if any of them were still alive, and finds he doesn’t really care.

He wants this, has wanted it for a while now, and apparently Peter wants it too, if last night and this morning are anything to go by.

His body twinges pleasantly, reminding him of their time together in the shower earlier, and Chris revels in it.

It’s been a long time since Chris took another man to bed, but it feels just as good as he remembers, a deeply satisfying ache.

He hopes like hell this isn’t a one-time thing.

 

* * *

 

 

As Chris runs his fingers lightly through Peter's smattering of dark chest hair, he thinks about the moment when he’d looked at Peter Hale and realized that he wanted him.

It had been after a thunderstorm. Chris had been waiting for the rain to stop when Peter had burst through the door of the store, drenched and scowling and looking like a drowned rat, a far cry from his normal perfectly groomed persona.

Chris had taken in the sight of Peter with his hair mussed and his mouth open and panting a little, rivulets of rainwater running down his throat, and suddenly the thought had popped unbidden into his head  _I wonder if he’d look that wrecked if I fucked him._

The idea had shocked him with its suddenness and intensity, and Chris had found himself staring a moment too long as arousal washed over him at the mental image of Peter spread beneath him, begging.

Peter’s nostrils had flared and his head had snapped around, eyes locking on Chris before a slow smile had spread across his face.

Chris had realised belatedly that Peter could smell him, dammit.

He could only imagine the mocking comments that were about to come his way.

But instead, Peter had quirked a brow, still smiling, and run his tongue slowly over his bottom lip in a blatantly teasing gesture, and then simply nodded, saying “Christopher” before walking past him, bumping their shoulders together casually as he did so.

Chris had stared at Peter’s retreating figure, absently noting how long the other man’s legs were, how had he not noticed that before?

He’d shaken himself out of his reverie, and fixed his gaze firmly on the rain coming down outside, willing it to stop so he could make his escape, and think about this a little more without feeling Peter’s eyes boring into him.

 But the water continued to pour down with complete disregard for his desire to get to the safety of his car.

 A voice in his ear startled him.

“Come on Christopher, brave the elements. You don’t seem like a man who’s bothered by getting a little rain. Sometimes it can be fun getting….wet?” Peter had teased, and Chris didn’t think he was imagining the heated look Peter was giving him.

“Says the man who was bitching and snarling when he came in the door” Chris had replied, a smile playing around his lips.

“Oh, I only like to get wet on my own terms. Preferably with company” Peter had smirked, and then he walked back out into the rain, leaving Chris standing there looking like a coward, and that meant he’d had no choice but to go outside as well, because like hell he’d let a werewolf make him look stupid.

Especially not an attractive, asshole werewolf.

 

* * *

 

 

Suddenly, wherever Chris was, Peter seemed to be there.

He always waved with a smirk, like he knew something Chris didn’t.

Chris waved back or nodded in response, and for some reason that always made Peter look supremely smug.

And now that Chris had noticed on a conscious level how desirable the man was, it seemed he couldn’t stop staring at him.

More than once Peter caught him staring blatantly at his ass, or his neck, or his thickly muscled forearms.

And he just smirked, and bent over the freezer cabinet where he was shopping a little lower, or flexed his arms a little more, and rolled his sleeves up a little further.

Just enough to tease.

Chris wasn’t sure of Peter was teasing him to mock him or tempt him.

He found out after two weeks of waving, when Peter started coming over to say hello.

Actually, he never said hello.

He always said “Christopher” in a slightly formal manner, the name a greeting in itself.

And Chris always responded in the same way, with “Peter.”

 

Peter’s conversational gambits were always interesting, certainly.

The first time, when they were both in line at the coffee shop, it was to nod at the Sheriff’s boy and say ‘Young Stiles grew up pretty, don’t you think?”

“I suppose, if you’re into men” Chris had replied guardedly. His bisexuality had never exactly been a secret, but he was selective who he shared the information with.

‘Oh, I definitely am. Shame he’s so young. I prefer my men a little more mature. A little more rugged, if you will” Peter had said, deliberately casual.

Chris had filed that information away, answering with a noncommittal “Uh huh.”

He’d wondered about Peter’s sexuality before, and now he had his answer.

 

* * *

 

 

Next time they met, Peter had asked him, out of the blue, “Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars?”

“Lord of the Rings, no question.”

Peter had nodded to himself and said “Excellent. Perhaps we can be friends, Christopher.”

 

* * *

 

 

The time after that?

“Cats or dogs?”

Chris had snorted in disbelief.

“Do I look like a cat person to you?”

And Peter had swept his eyes up and down Chris’ body appreciatively, humming to himself.

“Let me take another look” he’d said, and this time he’d made no secret of the fact that his gaze lingered on Chris’ strong, denim cased thighs, the bulge in his crotch, and his broad chest.

“Oh, I’d say you prefer strong, muscled beasts, so I’m guessing your interests extend to the canine” he’d stated.

And then he’d added “And maybe if I’m lucky, they might extend to the lupine.”

He flashed his eyes at Chris then, and raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Chris had decided then and there that whatever Peter Hale was offering him, he wanted it.

He’d said as much in that deep baritone of his, telling Peter “They might do, at that. If you’re _very_ lucky.”

Peter’s expression had been hungry as he’d let his eyes rove over Chris one last time before purring “Anytime, Christopher. Just say the word.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Peter approached him, Chris had been drinking .

It was Alison’s birthday.

He couldn’t stay in the house, needed to get out.

Peter had sidled up and asked “Drinking alone Christopher? Tell me, are you getting lonely in that big house of yours?”

And Chris, because he was four beers in and feeling maudlin, hadn’t even tried to deny it.

“God, yes. I miss them so much, you have no idea” he’d told Peter, with more honesty than he’d initially intended.

“Oh, I might have an idea or two about loss” Peter had replied, fixing Chris with a steady look.

And there it was. 

The elephant in the room.

Chris knew that it would come up at some point, the long running animosity between their clans, and Kate’s murder of Peter’s family.

He looked up, expecting to see bitterness in Peter’s eyes, or hatred, but instead there was only sadness.

And there was only one thing he could say.

“I’m so damn sorry, Peter. Kate was insane. I wish I’d known. I could have stopped her.”

Peter had blinked for a moment, before simply saying “Thank you.”

There was a moment of silence, the atmosphere charged, but then Peter had spoken again, breaking the moment.

 “An apology from an Argent to a Hale, who would have thought it?” he’d said, and his tone was playful, mocking. 

Chris saw what he was trying to do immediately, and played along.

“I know. I must be drunker than I thought” he shot back, and Peter smiled, just a little.

They’d navigated the biggest obstacle, it seemed.

Almost.

Chris couldn’t help but add “I’m not them, you know. I hope you know you can trust me.”

Peter looked at him thoughtfully, before replying “You know, I think I already do. Don’t tell anyone though; I have a reputation as a suspicious bastard to uphold.”

Chris had laughed, relieved.

 

They could move forwards.

Now it was just a matter of who was willing to make a move, so they could take the next step.

 

* * *

 

And so the games had begun.

The flirting had continued, picking up in intensity and frequency, right up until last night, when Chris had seen Peter spiraling into a full flashback, and had done the only thing he could think of guaranteed to snap Peter out of it and back to the present.

He’d pulled him in for a rough kiss, expecting him to fight it, but hoping he could distract him from the fireworks.

It had taken Peter a minute to respond, but Chris could feel the moment Peter relaxed slightly under his hands and threw himself into kissing him back.

Which had led them to where they are now, dozing in Chris’ king sized bed, with Peter holding him close and looking truly relaxed for the first time in years.

 

* * *

 

When Peter wakes, they flirt a little, and after Chris kisses him thoroughly, Peter suggests another round.

Chris tells him “If we keep doing this I’m going to struggle to keep up, aren’t I?”

Peter looks at him for a moment, silent, before he asks “Do you want to? Keep doing this, I mean?”

Chris is quick to reassure him ”Peter, I’d love to keep doing this. I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Chris sees Peter’s face break into a delighted grin, and takes that as a sign that he feels the same.

Especially when Peter pulls him a little closer, and says “So, your legs and my shoulders…I think they should meet” with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Chris snorts in amusement, before pinning Peter to mattress and breathing in his ear “Baby, I can bend in ways you’ve never even dreamed of.”

“Oh, is that right? Do show me” Peter purrs, as he grabs Chris’ ass and squeezes firmly.

And Chris does.

 

* * *

 

Peter has to admit, as he lays breathless and sated afterwards, that he’s impressed by exactly how close to his ears Chris Argent can get his ankles.

“Yoga, baby. You should try it” Chris chuckles, as he sprawls across the bed recovering.

“Mmm. Maybe I’ll just watch you instead. I’ll bet your Downward Dog is a sight for sore eyes” Peter says with a smirk.

“Not today, though. I think I’m stretched out enough ” Chris admits.

Peter lays a hand on his hip, and there’s a note of concern when he asks “Sore? I can help with that.”

Chris laughs again, deep and rich, as he says “Peter, I’ve been well fucked, and I’m feeling it, that’s all. It’s fine.”

“I did try and hold back a little, I’m aware that humans are fragile creatures” Peter tells him.

Chris quirks a brow.

“I’ve been called a lot of names, but never a fragile creature” he says, grinning.

“Relatively speaking, I mean. Compared to a wolf” Peter clarifies.

“In that case, yeah. Delicate little flower, right here” Chris says with a deep laugh, and Peter just wants to take the sound and bottle it.

They lie there beside each other, Peter continuing to run his hand down Chris’s  hip absently.

Chris watches him through his lashes, before asking “So, it’s been years? Really?”

Peter sighs, and says “I’ve been a little busy, Christopher. What with being in a coma, then dead, then in Eichen, then forgotten completely. Romantic entanglements haven’t exactly been at the top of my to do list.”

Chris hums in understanding.

“So, what you’re saying is you have a little catching up to do?” he rumbles out.

Peter props himself up on his elbows and looks at Chris, a twinkle in his eye.

“So much catching up. You have no idea.”

“Happy to help you with that, baby. Anytime you need” Chris tells him, his perfect smile on display.

He pauses and adds “Anytime except for the next couple of hours. I really gotta sleep a little.”

Peter laughs softly.

“Christopher Argent, are you tapping out already?”

“Damn straight. I’m not as young as you, and I don’t have your stamina” Chris says, unapologetic.

Peter looks at him consideringly, and then nudges him till he gets the hint and rolls over onto his front.

“Peter what are you doing?” Chris grumbles.

He was comfy where he was.

Peter doesn’t reply, just starts to run his hands firmly down the back of Chris’s  neck  in a rhythmic motion, drawing a satisfied groan from Chris.

Peter smiles smugly at the sound, and starts to work his way across Chris’s shoulders, massaging the flesh firmly, working out the knots he finds there.

“Damn, keep doing that” Chris moans out, and the sounds he makes are nearly pornographic.

‘You’re awfully tight. How long since you had a massage?” Peter asks.

“Don’t have time” Chris slurs out, the steady push-pull of Peter’s hands lulling him into a state close to sleep.

“Lucky for you I’m good at this” Peter replies, moving further down Chris’s back.

He doesn’t get a reply.

Chris’s eyes are closed, and his mouth is slightly open and slack, and he’s not asleep, but he’s certainly not awake either.

Peter doesn’t mind.

He happily indulges himself, touching Chris all over, feeling the tight muscles loosen beneath his skilled fingertips as he works all the way down to Chris’s ass.

It really is delicious, toned and firm and solid, and Peter runs his hands over the globes reverently before finally taking his hands away and casting one long look over the now sleeping body.

He pulls the blankets up over Chris, and then gets out of bed and goes to see if there’s anything decent to work with in the kitchen. He’ll have something cooked and ready for Chris when he wakes, he decides.

The man will obviously need something to keep his energy levels up, so Peter can wreck him some more.

 

* * *

 

 

They spend a night and a day talking, and making love.

Chris tells Peter what it’s like to grow up knowing your destiny is to hunt down monsters, only to find that the real monsters are your own family.

Peter tells Chris about being trapped in his body while he recovered from the fire, hand absently brushing against where the scars once were.

Chris can’t help but kiss down the trail of where his fingers were touching, and that leads to him kissing down Peter’s neck, and he thought he was too tired for any more horseplay tonight, but apparently when it comes to Peter the rules don’t apply, because Peter grinds up into him, teasing and encouraging him, and the next thing he knows he’s holding him down while he fucks him, easing into Peter’s body like it was made for him.

 

They take each other apart gently, carefully.

 

He takes his time, rolling his hips in a slow, deep rhythm that makes Peter groan in satisfaction as Chris unfailing hits his prostate with every stroke.

It takes Chris a long time before he comes with a soft cry, and afterwards, as he slips out of Peter’s body, he holds up his hand, saying “No more, I mean it. I’m done.”

Peter hums in agreement, draping himself over Chris’s prone form.

“I think I am, too” he admits, as he settles his head against firm chest muscles.

It’s nice, curling up together.

Chris knows he should shower, knows that in the morning they’ll both bitch and moan about the mess of come and lube that’s dried on their skin, but in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care.

It’s January the second before Peter leaves, with a smirk and a promise that he'll call.

 

 


End file.
